


Crossroads

by Zetor



Category: Daria (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Difference, F/F, May/December Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 09:59:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9716534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zetor/pseuds/Zetor
Summary: A story about a college aged Scarlett figuring out what she wants to do with her life, in more ways than she realizes.





	

The Running Bet was a relatively small bar with low lighting and a quiet atmosphere, the kind kept alive by its regulars. It was surprisingly clean, the wood furnishings and long bar always kept well polished. There wasn't any dancing or loud music, just a pool table and an old jukebox full of an eclectic collection of folk, blues, Billy Joel, and Johnny Cash.

Scarlett didn't go out drinking a lot, but when she did this was always where she ended up. She sat at the bar and stared down into her half-empty glass, swirling around its amber contents as she wondered for the umpteenth time if applying to grad school to get an archeology degree was a really a good idea. She would be graduating next semester and needed to start sending in applications if she was going to apply. She'd always been enthralled by ancient cultures, but she knew finding a job in the field would be less than easy.

Jolting her from her thoughts, a woman, probably in her late-thirties to early-forties, slid onto the stool next to Scarlett, ignoring the multiple empty stools at the bar. Scarlett chanced a sideways glance at her through her long red hair, hoping she wouldn't be noticed. Getting a better look, her face flushed in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol; the woman sitting next to her was stunning. From her intelligent face and deep brown eyes, to her generous figure and understated clothes, to the way her wavy auburn hair cascaded down her back; everything about her had a kind of fluid, casual elegance. She also seemed somehow familiar, although Scarlett couldn't quite put a finger on why.

Once the bartender took the woman's order, red wine, and left, she turned to Scarlett with a smile and said, "That's a beautiful ankh. Is it silver?"

Scarlett looked down and realized she'd been fiddling with her ankh, a nervous habit. "Yes, it was a gift from my grandfather," she explained, stopping and placing a hand over her mouth when she realized she was speaking in her native accent; it always came out when she'd had too much to drink.

"That's a lovely accent," the woman commented. She put a finger to her temple in thought for a moment. "Let me guess, Donegal?"

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. Deciding not to try to hide her accent, she said, "Yes, actually. Have you been to Ireland? I haven't met many people who know the difference. Most just say Irish."

The woman's wine arrived and she took a sip before setting it down. "The ones who don't mix it up with Scottish you mean?" she said with a smirk and they both chuckled. "I used to be a foreign correspondent; I've been all over Europe. I'm Amy, by the way." She extended a delicate hand.

"Scarlett," Scarlett said, taking Amy's and shaking it.

Amy let go of Scarlett's hand and quirked an eyebrow, the corner of one side of her mouth rising in a playful smirk. "Your parents certainly had a rather literal naming sense."

"It's a nickname," Scarlett explained with a small laugh. "My best friend came up with it when I moved here in high school. Aednat isn't exactly a common name in the states." She smiled and shook her head. "Of course, she didn't know my family name at the time."

"Oh? What's that?"

"O'hara," Scarlett answered in her best southern accent.

"So you're Scarlett O'hara?" Amy asked, covering her mouth to hold back her laughter.

"Yes indeed. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Scarlett replied, maintaining her faux southern accent.

No longer able to contain herself, Amy burst into laughter, soon followed by Scarlett. After she caught her breath, Amy asked, "So how many people actually get that joke?"

Scarlett shook her head. "Not nearly enough. No one has any respect for the classics."

"I wish I could say I'm surprised," Amy said, taking another sip of her wine. "So, _Ms. O'hara_ , what's a nice girl like you doing drinking this early in the day?"

Scarlett looked back down at her half-finished beer and sighed. "Contemplating accruing enough student debt to get a degree I might not even be able to find a job with."

"Arts?" Amy asked sympathetically.

Scarlett shook her head and took a drink. "Worse, archeology."

Amy winced. "Ouch. Well, if it helps, I went back to get my second masters in _art history_ at thirty and it ended up paying for the 1970 Triumph Spitfire I've got parked outside." She deftly pulled a key ring out of her purse and held it up with the sly smile Scarlett was starting to get used to. "Wanna see?"

Scarlett's eyes widened. She didn't know much about cars, but she was pretty sure that when you were proud of one being old it was usually expensive. She didn't make a habit of getting into cars with people she met at bars, but the people asking usually weren't beautiful women. Downing the rest of her drink, she said, "Sure, why not?"

"Right this way," Amy said standing up and leading the way out of the bar and around the corner into the parking lot.

Scarlett didn't usually pay much attention to cars, but this one was different. It was a work of art. The first thing she noticed was the color; it was bright red, actually not very far off from the color of her hair. The design was sporty, completely impractical in the best way possible, with a stylized body and only two seats. To top it all off, it was a convertible, the top stowed away.

Amy walked over to the passenger door and pulled it open, smiling at the younger woman staring awestruck at her car. "You know, if you keep checking out my car I'm going to get jealous."

Scarlett blushed and walked over to the car, sliding into the passenger seat. For the first time, it hit her what an adult Amy was and she felt a little intimidated. She was barely out of high school. "What do you do for a living?" she asked, the question just slipping out.

Amy laughed as she closed the passenger door and walked around to the driver's side. Getting in and turning the ignition, she said, "I worked at the Philadelphia Museum of Art until a few years ago, but now I appraise art independently. I get to see all kinds of pieces and I set my own hours."

As Amy shifted gears and pulled the Spitfire out onto the street, Scarlett asked, "What got you interested in art? You said you used to be a reporter."

"You're paying attention, I'll have to be careful what I say," Amy said with a grin, weaving between cars to get to the left turn lane. "I had some free time during a job in Paris and I decided to visit the Louvre since I'd never been. It turns out I had an interest in art I never knew about and I started visiting the local museums whenever I could while I was traveling. After a while, I came back here to learn more about it, and the rest you know."

Again, Scarlett felt the difference in her and Amy's experience, but at the same time, she felt closer to her. Amy's love for art mirrored her own passion for history. It was hard to pin down, but there was a definite connection between them. "You've lived a really amazing life."

"You make me sound like an old lady," Amy said, trying to sound flippant, but with a note of hurt in her voice.

"I didn't mean it like that," Scarlett said, quickly backpedaling. She searched for the right words and finally said, "You've taken what you love and made it into a career. I'm jealous."

As they reached a red light, Amy leaned over and faux whispered, "Because you're so cute, I'll tell you the secret to it. You just have to do it. Most people give up before they even try."

Scarlett wasn't sure if Amy thought she was cute as a woman or as an inexperienced kid, and got the distinct impression that Amy wanted it that way. Regardless, she couldn't help but blush.

The light turned green and they rode in silence for a while, hair blowing in the wind. Amy turned on the radio and they cruised through the city for a while. One of the songs sparked a conversation, which led to a discussion on their musical preferences in general. Their tastes were complimentary, but not identical, leading to an interesting debate about the merits of punk rock versus classic rock.

Scarlett started to notice familiar scenery, but before she could say anything, Amy said, "You know, I've been to art museums all over the world, but not many historical ones. Somehow I get the feeling you've probably been here a couple of times though. I was wondering if I could convince you to give me a personal tour?"

As Amy pulled into the parking garage of The Penn Museum or, more accurately, The University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archeology and Anthropology, Scarlett replied, "I'd be happy to, although we'll have to stick to the highlights this late in the day." She couldn't help grinning; she loved showing people around the museum and it felt good to have more experience with something than Amy for once.

Amy got lucky and found a spot near the entrance. As they got out of the car and walked to the ticket booth, Scarlett started running over the different exhibits, trying to get a feel for what to show Amy in the time they had.

When they reached the ticket booth, Amy pulled her wallet out of her purse and told the vendor, "Two tickets."

Before the man could respond, Scarlett interrupted. "One actually," she corrected, producing a member's card and handing it over.

After the vendor finished handling their admission, the two made their way into the museum proper. As Scarlett led the way to their first stop, Amy said, "You know, I was hoping to treat you. Now I'm going to have to pay you back for the tour some other way."

"It's fine, really," Scarlett said, taking a turn toward the Egyptian exhibits. "It's nice just to have someone to come here with."

Amy shook her head. "No, I insist. How about dinner after this? I know a great pizza joint."

"Well, I wouldn't be much of a college student if I said no to free pizza." Scarlett joked, trying to cover up her nervousness at how date-like her day was becoming.

"I wouldn't trust _anyone_ who said no to free pizza," Amy said with another charming smirk. "Now tell me about these dead guys."

Scarlett proceeded to give a lecture significantly more thorough than what the museum's displays provided, leading Amy through several sections of the museum. For her part, Amy showed real interest, asking questions and giving her full attention to Scarlett's explanations. All too soon for Scarlett's taste, the announcement came over the speakers that the museum was closing and the two made their way to the exit.

As the two climbed back into the car, Amy asked, "So what made you want to study archeology?"

Scarlett stared into space for a moment as Amy backed out of the parking spot and got on the road. "My grandfather," she finally replied. "He loved this kind of thing, but he never had the opportunity to go to college and study it."

They rode in silence for a while, until Amy finally said, "Look, I barely know you, so this isn't really my place, but getting this degree sounds like something you need to do."

Scarlett sighed as Amy pulled up in front of a hole in the wall pizza joint that with a beat up green sign that simply read "Mario's". As she got out of the car, she said, "I know. It's just such a big decision. I'm deciding what to do with the rest of my life."

Amy laughed as she held the door for Scarlett. "You don't decide what to do with the rest of your life until you're on your deathbed."

Scarlett felt a bit admonished, the age gap between her and Amy coming into focus again. Still, she had to admit the brunette had a point. She had her whole life ahead of her, and she'd rather not spend it regretting not following her dream.

Looking a bit nervous when Scarlett didn't respond, Amy said, "I'll go put in the order. Can you grab us a table?"

"Sure," Scarlett said absently, still thinking about her future.

Amy started toward the line, then turned back. "All meat and Coke okay?" she asked awkwardly.

"Meat's fine, but make it a Sprite," Scarlett said, scanning the restaurant, looking for a good table.

"Got it," Amy said, turning and heading to the line again.

Mario's was fairly crowded for such a small place, but Scarlett managed to nab a two person booth against the far wall. Waiting for Amy, her mind started to wander. She was so glad Amy had sat down next to her at the bar that afternoon. She was amazing. It wasn't just that she'd helped Scarlett figure things out; she was smart, and funny, and beautiful. Scarlett had to admit that she was more than a little attracted to her. So what if she was a little older? You only live once, right?

Amy arrived at the table with their drinks, looking contrite. Still standing, she said, "Look, Scarlett, I'm sorry—"

"About what?" Scarlett said too quickly, stepping on Amy's words. She was suddenly terrified Amy was about to blow her off.

If Amy picked up on Scarlett's thoughts, she didn't show it. "We were having a perfectly good day and I ruined it by sticking my nose in your business. I should have just kept my mouth shut."

Scarlett let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in and started laughing. When Amy stared at her in confusion, she said, "I'm _glad_ you said what you did. It makes sense. I've been going in circles about whether or not to grad school forever. I wish I'd met you months ago."

Amy slid into the booth and set the drinks down. She grinned and quirked an eyebrow. "Wish you'd met me months ago?"

Scarlett started to correct herself, then stopped and bit the bullet. "What is this?"

"What?" Amy asked.

" _This_ ," Scarlett said, waving a hand between her and Amy. "Is this a date? Are we just hanging out? Are you some kind of spirit guide? What?"

"What do you want it to be?" Amy asked with a teasing smirk.

Scarlett blushed, and again got the distinct feeling that Amy liked seeing her flustered. Surprisingly, it didn't make her mad. "I like you Amy. You're beautiful and quirky and just frustrating enough to be interesting."

An uncharacteristic look of uncertainty passed over Amy's face and she looked away. "So the age difference doesn't…"

Scarlett reached across the table and grabbed Amy's hand. "You only live once right? I don't want to miss out on something because I'm scared to go for it, whether that's my masters or you."

Amy looked Scarlett in the eyes and smiled, not her usual coy smile, but a warm happy one. "Now where did you pick up an attitude like that?"

Scarlett smiled back. "I wonder?"

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day,
> 
> So this is from JoeMerl's random pairing challenge on the PPMB. This year I drew Amy and "Scarlett" (background character, the redhead with the ankh), so this is what you get. Like it? Don't? Let me know! Or just read and lurk. It's all good.


End file.
